Satya rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him. For further grip her legs fell on him. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, but stopped. She caught his doubtful eyes in sight, did not let him kiss her…she slept! Middle of the night, he was restless. She was woken up. They sat up on their bed. There was a green lanky creature of no particular sex or gender sitting in between them. A smirk grew on its face. Satya saw wings, and open windows. He saw names, titles, and cubicles. She turned and heard rain, rustling leaves, crickets, and lizards. His head started to hurt. His limbs started to pain. The creature stroked his head, putting him to sleep. Now, he saw a high mountain, vultures, and pretty sunflowers in a garden. Blue skies. Seventeen rainbows. Beautiful mountains. Magnificent rivers. Satya started dancing around the room. And for once, he took her by the arm, swirled her around, and kissed her. They fell on to the bed in peals of laughter. The greenness faded away. Glass pieces and mirrors of music were resonating within the four walls. They slept looking at ceilings.
24 August 2008
Window Seat
The rainy afternoon was just coming to an end. I was still in the yellow colour bus, which was jumping up and down in the road. I could hear frogs, or toads, I do not know. But, I heard a voice in the squeaky wheels of the bus. Just then, my friend, Ego called me. My phone vibrated and churned in my bag, and I desperately fished it out of the mess. Ego is a he. He has always been a he. I keep changing choices, wanting to be a she and then a he and then a spider, but nothing changes. He spoke some gibberish about a debate on Wednesday afternoon. We were always pitted against each other in debate and speech classes. However, we often won both ways by playing our favourite game: Parasite and Host. Ego has always been my first love, because I was born with him. No, he is not a sibling. This would make us extremely incestuous. He is my lover. A lover who sits on tree tops and heckles at me, when I sit on the porch with a ligament torn in my right ankle. I’d quietly watch his blue eyes, burning with victorious laughter. Once, he noticed me. His eyes blinded with tears and he cuddled into my palm. He slept there for hours, cherishing dusk, clouds, stars, and night. I slept with him. We all own a kind of him. His species is peculiar, unique and mine. Soon, he squiggled awake and started his morning run. Faster than ever, it hurt my thighs and arms. I tried to hold him back, and then all of a sudden he sprouted wings. He attempted to fly out of my hand. These ferocious wings have only hit me when he has needed, wanted, and yearned love: the kind he got from Pride. The phone started to hurt my neck. Only if he knew that I loved him. I was hoping too much. His gibberish continued and joined the squeaky wheel-voice, the pitter-patter, the croaking and that queer swiveling spring in my head, which was spacing out.
